


His Mission

by SneakyBunyip



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Clone Wars (2003) - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Bodyguard, Captain Tarkin, Clone Wars flashback, Gen, Knight Anakin Skywalker, Protectiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-31 11:26:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15118412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SneakyBunyip/pseuds/SneakyBunyip
Summary: A prompt fromCharlesdances- "How about your take on how Tarkin got fatally wounded via blaster fire. How/when/where it happened is totes up to you!"What's the easiest way Tarkin can get fatally wounded in a blaster fight? Not letting his bodyguard protect him.Poor Anakin.





	His Mission

“Typically reconnaissance missions are more subtle than this, General Skywalker,” Tarkin sighed, as dozens of blasters were being pointed at him and his bodyguard.

Their odds of survival were irritatingly low, all because General Skywalker felt it necessary to risk "a closer look" at the Separatist Base on the planet MN-1226245. Now every droid in the vicinity was alerted to their presence.

“Relax, Captain,” Anakin said, with an infuriatingly easy smile. “My mission was to be your bodyguard and I’ve never failed a mission.”

“And yet my body is not being very well guarded,” Tarkin replied, sourly, staring down the barrel of a B1 battle droid's blaster. “Also, you should not tempt fate with such statements. That is precisely how missions fail.”

Tarkin and Anakin were forced into the very warehouse Tarkin was charged to investigate, though he would have preferred to have kept his distance. Still, at this close proximity, he could confirmed that it had been the Separatists that possessed the stolen y-wings and munition caches the Republic was missing. 

It was a pity he would not survive to relay the information to Chancellor Palpatine.

“Ready!” Shouted the yellow-accented B1 battle droid captain.

“Roger Roger!” Shouted the rest of the droids as they raised their blasters in unison.

Anakin leaned over to Tarkin and raised his light blade, which had yet to be ignited.

“When I say go,” the jedi knight whispered, “dive behind those crates over there. I’ll cover your escape.”

“Absolutely not,” Tarkin balked at Anakin, casually dropping his hands over the blasters still in his thigh holsters. “I am not entirely helpless, general.”

“Aim!” Commanded the B1 captain, raising a mechanical arm.

“Roger Roger!” Came the mechanical chorus.

“Suit yourself,” Anakin shrugged, “but as your bodyguard I advise-”

“This is not a committee, Anakin,” Tarkin snapped. “Stop advising and ready yourself.”

Anakin frowned, narrowing his bright blue eyes. “Ready for what?”

The B1 captain’s hand lowered. “Fire-”

Both blasters appeared in Tarkin’s hands quicker than the eye could catch. 

Two shots fired: One hit the fuel cells stacked near the main entrance; the second struck the fuel tank of a nearby y-wing. A fiery chain reaction boomed through the warehouse. Black smoke filled the air, stinging his eyes. Red hot metal showered around him in a fiery storm. The droids fired blindly into the smoke, while Tarkin returned fire with more accuracy. Anakin ignited his lightsaber.

"Get outta here, Captain."

"No thank you," Tarkin replied coolly, blasting the head off a nearby battle droid to prove his competency.

With a frustrated growl, Anakin leapt into action.  The young jedi knight spun around Tarkin, his blue lightsaber gliding through the air to create a thin sheets of ethereal light which effortlessly protected them both from the ongoing barrage of blaster fire. He pirouetted and jumped gracefully around his enemies, reminding Tarkin of a Coruscanti ballet dancer. The current aria he danced to, however, was a less than flattering symphony of screeching B1 units, high-pitched bleats of blaster fire, and the erratic hum of Anakin’s light blade.

Tarkin, meanwhile, was orchestrating his own organized chaos. 

His blasters found their mark every time, shooting B1 and B3 battle droids alike with deadly accuracy born from a life sculpted by the Carrion Plateau. To every three or four droids the jedi knight destroyed, Tarkin would dispose of two or three soon after. 

It did puzzle Tarkin from time to time that the Republic did not utilize his own extraordinary marksmanship more appropriately. It was as if they had forgotten the sophisticated, budding politician was also a man of action. Still, Tarkin was not one to give into something so petty as pride...

...and yet the repressed thirst for battle had been awakened in Tarkin. With each blast finding its mark, he felt more and more invincible. He walked forward unafraid, passing Anakin and his blade despite the bodyguard’s protests. 

He was more alive now than he had been in years. 

He felt untouchable. 

Perhaps he  _ was _ untouchable…

Tarkin executed three droids with three perfectly aimed shots. He calmly turned towards Anakin and as he did so, felt something bite his chest.

“Wilhuff!” Anakin cried out.

He blinked several times at the young Skywalker who had the last of the droids suspended in mid-air. As Anakin stared wide-eyed at Tarkin he crushed the droids with the unseen Force effortlessly.

“What is the matter?” Tarkin asked, ignoring the annoying weariness in his body and the persistent itch on his chest.

“You’re hurt.”

“Hardly,” Tarkin laughed…or he at least tried to laugh. A metallic taste reached his tongue and he swallowed with a grimace. 

_ Strange… _

Sluggishly he looked down and saw red blooming across his green-gray uniform...then back up at General Skywalker.

“K…kriff…” 

Tarkin did not recall much after that.

\-----

When Tarkin awoke he found himself on a stiff bed in an obscenely white medical facility.

Soothing beeps on a nearby monitor told him he was alive and in a stable condition, yet the intense pain in his chest made him feel less than stable. He tried to sit up and immediately regretted the decision with a sharp hiss.

“Captain?”

 

Tarkin's eyes dragged over to the man sitting in the chair beside his bed.

For being a feared jedi knight, Anakin Skywalker certainly had a lot to learn about keeping his emotions less transparent. His intense blue eyes were wide and glassy, his jaw was tight, and his hands - one gloved and the other very exposed - were fidgeting as his elbows rested on his knees.

It was unsettling that one that held such great power at his fingertips, was also so shameless in showing his vulnerabilities to the world.

“How long have I been out?” Tarkin asked.

“Three days.”

“ _Three_  days?” Tarkin growled, flinging the blankets to the side. “Why did no one wake me sooner?”

Anakin wrinkled his brow. “B…because you were shot, Captain.”

“That is no excuse,” Tarkin snorted, but as he moved he felt a sudden pain sear across his chest. He clutched at the wound reflexively, feeling  the padding of bacta bandages mere centimeters from his heart.

He masked his agony with a scowl and sat up, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed.

“Captain Tarkin, stay in bed,” Anakin said, too calmly.

“Absolutely not. I have work to-”

“ _ Wilhuff _ …I won’t ask again.”

Tarkin shot Anakin a challenging look.“And I will not repeat myself again,  _ boy _ .”

With a resigned sigh, Anakin extended a gloved hand.

And Tarkin felt his body…pause, as if the very molecules in his body refused to obey his commands.

“Wilhuff…you need to rest.”

Unable to resist, Tarkin found himself being gently coaxed by the Force. His legs lifted on their own and he was eased back onto the mattress. Lying prone once again, the bed sheets slipped over him as if moved by magic.

"This is an outrage," Tarkin snarled.

The wounded look Anakin gave him made Tarkin uncomfortable. And what made him more uncomfortable was his sudden need to comfort the worried knight. In the end, he made an effort to soften his face as best he knew how.

"What happened?" he asked softly.

“I missed,” Anakin confessed, his eyes not meeting Tarkin’s face. “I don’t know how I missed it, but one of the droid's shots slipped by and…you were shot because of me.”

“Anakin…”

“I talked to the Chancellor about what we found on the recon mission. Clone troopers are at the base as we speak.”

Tarkin narrowed his eyes. “You did not go with them?”

"You weren't awake." Anakin dropped his gaze. “Obi-wan can handle them by himself.”

“That is hardly a reason to-”

“I’m your bodyguard,” Anakin snapped. Suddenly, the air in the room felt heavy. A nearby tray of instruments began to tremble noisily on their own. “I was not going to leave until my mission was done.”

“Well I am awake now and clearly shall be fine. So you may go and assist your master.”

Anakin stubbornly folded his arms and crossed one leg over the other, leaning back in the chair.

“When you leave this room __ my mission will be done.”

Tarkin exhaled sharply. He had no energy to argue, so instead he settled back into bed. 

Two more days and another minor surgery later, Tarkin was finally released.

Captain Tarkin and General Skywalker parted ways soon after and did not see each other for the rest of the war.

\-----

It was raining on Balmorra, adding an extra layer of humidity to the already muggy warm air.

Grand Moff Tarkin watched the rain from beneath a ramada just outside the Imperial compound. Days like this always made his weathered joints ache. Old wounds awoke to remind him of a life filled with danger and adventure. 

Thunder crashed overhead. Tarkin’s muscles tensed. The scar he still bore from the blaster’s bite on MN-1226245 now screamed at him the loudest. With a soft hiss, he rolled his shoulder a few times, hoping to relieve the tension.

“It still gives you trouble, governor?”

Tarkin arched an eyebrow at the Sith lord who now stood beside him. 

“On occasion,” Tarkin said, simply. “Merciless weather like this does not help.”

Vader said nothing. His dark helmet turned to study the grand moff with bulbous, black lenses.

Tarkin considered his next words carefully. Some days, Vader refused to acknowledge the very existence of Anakin Skywalker. Today, however, Tarkin could feel a small glimmer of that boyish gaze through those dark lenses, even if he knew the eyes themselves were a sunburst of red and yellow. 

“You saved my life,” Tarkin reminded him. “I never harbored any resentment towards you for that day. You know this.”

 

Vader held his gaze a moment, then turned his attention to the rain once again. “You should go back inside,” he rumbled quietly.

Tarkin smirked. “You go on ahead, I will be along shortly.”

“I leave when you leave.” Vader replied.

They stood in silence for a long while, watching the fat droplets of rain splash noisily on the muddy ground until eventually the clouds wore themselves out. The troopers began to gather in the field, squadrons finding their places before their generals while AT-STs positioned themselves alongside their AT-AT protectors.

“Today will be another glorious victory for the Empire,” Tarkin said, feeling a slight tug of that old warrior’s thirst creeping into his old bones once again.

“I caution you to not stray from my watch today, governor,” Vader warned.

“I have learned from the lessons from my youth, Lord Vader,” Tarkin said, lightly, patting his arm as he walked out into the field.

“As have I,” Vader retorted, and  followed close behind.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr: [SneakyBunyip](http://sneakybunyip.tumblr.com/)


End file.
